


In His Shoes

by LadyAuroraKnight



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, body switch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAuroraKnight/pseuds/LadyAuroraKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Camelot has a run of bad luck, Arthur and Merlin are sent to investigate. But their investigation is crippled when the sorcerer responsible switches their spirits. Arthur attempts to adjust to the life of a servant and deal with an unusual restlessness in Merlin's core, while Merlin tries to be convincing as Arthur, prevent the prince from finding out his secret, and solve their body switching problem. Each get more than they bargained for as secrets are outed and prejudices put aside to save the kingdom in each others' shoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bad Luck

Merlin knew it wasn't his day. He'd known it since he'd gotten out of bed and hit his foot on the cupboard. He'd known it since he'd found a hole in his only pair of clean trousers. And then there had been the excessively disgusting gruel, more tasteless and lumpy than usual.

He'd thought it was starting to get better when he actually managed to get to the kitchens and deliver Arthur's breakfast on time, only to find the prince absent. Then he'd remembered it was his day off.

Merlin sighed and sat down in the chair, glancing at the uneaten ham, sausage, and eggs. He eyed the door before deciding there was no sense for the food to go to waste and digging in. He soon found himself retching onto the floor, courtesy of the meat being a tad off. Merlin headed to the well to get water, and on the way back, grabbed a rag. He spent the next half an hour cleaning.

Then Arthur entered his chambers.

"Good, you're here. Get the horses ready. We're being sent to investigate a druid sighting near the edge of the woods.

"What?" Merlin protested. "But it's my day off."

"Odd way to spend your day off, _Merlin_. Or did you miss cleaning my chambers?"

Merlin frowned and began his round of usual grumbling, followed by an order to "Shut up, _Merlin_ ," and the two had left.

By now the wizard was quite ready for the day to be over, and muttered this aloud, making Arthur rather irritated.

" _You've_ had a bad day?" Arthur exclaimed with an incredulous glare. " _First_ , my chambers were freezing because my replacement manservant is more incompetent than _you._ Then I had to fetch my _own_ breakfast from the kitchens, only to find the ham was off, and I spent the morning retching into-"

Merlin paused with shock. "You _too_?" he interrupted. "This can't just be bad luck."

"No, it was bad _ham_."

Merlin folded his arms and stared. "That's not what I meant."

Arthur frowned and paused a minute before conceding Merlin's point. "You could be onto something," he muttered before pausing to think. "This morning, father's old injury was acting up more than usual. Gaius told him to eat something, keep his strength up, but he had the same blasted ham we did and became ill."

Arthur shifted on the horse, becoming more agitated with each sentence. "Gaius sent him potions for both, but his manservant mixed them up with Morgana's sleeping draught, and he's been asleep since late this morning. Then one of our best horses escaped from the stables, so I headed to the training grounds to find a couple of volunteers to round it up. _There_ I learnt that Sir Gareck eloped with one of the kitchen maids, and would not be returning to Camelot."

He pinched his brow in frustration.

Eyes widened as Merlin tried to think of an explanation. "Do you think that maybe..." he hesitated.

"What _is_ it Merlin?"

"Well, it could be a sorcerer."

"Not that I haven't considered it, but sieging Camelot with bad _luck_? Bit of a stretch, don't you think?"

"He or she may not want to siege Camelot, Arthur. What if someone is trying to…keep us busy?"

"That's ridiculous."

"It's possible."

"Don't be an _idiot_ , Merlin. I hardly think a sorcerer would waste his time sending us bad luck."

Merlin opened his mouth to retort but was cut off as Arthur motioned for him to be quiet. The prince dismounted his horse cautiously and Merlin followed suit.

Soft chatter could be heard in the distance and immediately Merlin felt magic in the air. There was no doubt that sorcerers had set up camp, but why so close to Camelot? Did they have a death wish?

The pair crept closer, kneeling down next to a tree and observing the fire. Two women sat on large stones. Their clothing was very similar but their appearances couldn't be more different. One woman's hair was a vivid red and the other woman, despite looking very youthful, had white hair the likes of which Arthur had never seen.

"How else were you planning on carrying out your orders?" the blonde asked. "Think about it. Not only is my spell distracting them, but another week of bad luck and the king may simply break down and beg us to reverse the spell."

The other sorceress sighed. "You're right, as usual."

Arthur turned to Merlin, eyes narrowing. Merlin recognized the warning as a promise he'd be in the stocks if he was ever inclined to gloat. He never had time to think on this, as a crunching noise sounded behind them, causing Arthur to whip around, sword out and ready. The prince nearly dodged the sorcerer's blow before blocking his sword fiercely. They shuffled off to the side, their fight turning into an odd dance, with metal gleaming and loud clanging.

"Pridwen!" the man shouted, narrowly avoiding Arthur's sword. "I found a couple of spies."

Another man entered the clearing, but Merlin was ready for him. With Arthur engaged in combat across the clearing, he was free to use his magic. Whispered words permeated the air, and with a flash of golden eyes, Merlin's opponent flew backwards, striking his head with such a crack that Merlin had to wince.

"Gedran…" he whispered desperately, before losing consciousness.

The sorcerer sparring with Arthur suddenly stopped, causing Arthur's sword to strike a solid magic shield. Arthur bit back a cry from pain in his wrist and whipped around to a ready stance.

"Nuisances," the man sighed.

He eyed his fallen comrade before narrowing his eyes at Merlin. The feeling of strong magic emanated from the boy. He paid no mind to Prince Arthur, but the servant worried him. The lad appeared to be conjuring up magic wordlessly, though reluctant to release it. He wondered why.

A glance toward the prince revealed all he needed to know. So the prince had no idea that his manservant was a sorcerer. The sorcerer smirked. He blocked a well aimed blow from the prince, and turned side on, never letting Merlin out of Arthur's view. Swords clanged and Gedran swiftly maneuvered to the right. Arthur's brow furrowed as he send blow after blow toward the druid, just to have them blocked.

Merlin frowned with frustration at Gedran's manipulations. He glanced to the side, seeing the cover of some trees not too far away, and began to head for it.

"Not so fast!" a voice exclaimed, and the druid with bright red hair stood in his way, a wry smile on her face. "You will not reach the woods, sorcerer, so unless you'd like to reveal yourself, I would suggest restraining your magic."

He frowned. _Sorcerer_? That was odd. No druid had ever called him that before. And wait - she'd said that aloud! Had Arthur _heard_?

The warlock turned, fearful, and found the prince out for the count, a sword about to piece his heart. He yelled angrily, and gold pooled in Merlin's irises as his magic reacted to the assault on his friend. Gedran was knocked from his feet, but in Merlin's distraction he'd forgotten about the witch behind him. He winced as pain suddenly exploded through his head and fought to stay awake. Then he could feel the darkness gripping him, and considered bitterly that nothing else could _possibly_ go wrong, before the world went black.

Gedran held the sword up, about to thrust it through the prince's unconscious body, but the red haired woman called out.

"Gedran!" she said, "Wait!"

He frowned angrily. "Do you not know the identity of this man? He is the son of Uther Pendragon, who has tormented us for years with his ignorance and hatred! Why should I let him live?"

"Lynne is correct to be patient. You tamper with things beyond you, Gedran," the white haired druid answered.

"I still see no reason for him to live."

"Medea speaks only sense!" Lynne exclaimed. "We have _orders_ , or have you forgotten?"

Medea's head shot up. This wasn't the first time they'd mentioned orders. She wondered whose orders they were.

"From what you have told me, you are meant to distract Camelot, correct?"

"Yes, what is your point?"

Medea frowned. "I have a better idea."

Gedran sighed. "I'm listening."

Medea glanced at the unconscious figure of Merlin.

"How amusing," she said with a grin. "that he has magic."

"And your idea?" Gedran asked impatiently.

"How better to keep them busy than to switch their spirits?"

Gedran and Lynne looked skeptical.

"But that's impossible," Lynne protested. "Only the most skilled of sorcerers could do such a thing."

"Are you saying you don't trust my skill?" Medea asked.

Lynne looked skeptical.

"Very well, let me assuage your doubt."

"No," Gedran said. "What guarantee do we have that this will work?"

Medea frowned. "It will."

She sighed at the looks the two gave her.

"Don't you see? Not only will this plan fulfill your orders, it will prevent the prince and his manservant from interfering. They will be too busy trying to figure out how to switch back."

"And what if they tell the king?"

Medea laughed. "Are you an idiot?"

Gedran restrained himself from slapping her. "Get to the point."

"Arthur is _bound_ to discover the servant's magic. How do you think he will react? Furthermore, how do you think the king will react? He cannot burn the servant because it will be his son. The servant's essence will be in the prince's body, making him _useless_ to lead the knights."

Lynne and Gedran looked to each other, considering the possibilities.

Medea sighed and folded her arms. "Think about it. Imagine what the king would sacrifice for his only son to be returned to normal."

Gedran sighed. "You may be correct. Very well, do your work, trickster, but be wary. Things may not go as you predict, and I will hold you responsible for cleaning up the mess you make."

Medea tilted her head with annoyance, before kneeling next to Arthur. She began chanting the spell, the wind waving her white hair about and her eyes shining a deep gold. The chanting continued for a few minutes until Medea reached out to touch Arthur's arm. The gold ran through him and he shimmered for a moment, his essence turning to mist in the air. With purpose, Medea reached out to Merlin, touching his arm. It felt like a thousand fiery needles prickling her skin as she attempted to draw out Merlin's essence. The magic began to come with it.

 _No_. _This was not the plan._

She glanced at the magic, horrified, and attempted to push it back. Merlin's essence moved back with it. She pushed her own magic harder - still nothing.

Medea breathed heavily with exertion but continued to push her magic to its limit. 

There was a tear in the connection. The magic began to separate.

_Yes!_

Her body trembled but she could feel her spell working. Merlin's expression contorted with pain, and he cried out in agony. The tear continued and Merlin's essence turned to mist. A barrage of images suddenly went through Medea's head along with a surge of power as Merlin's magic returned to his body. A golden sheen appeared on the air and the two mists shifted, directed into the opposite vessels of the prince and warlock. Medea fell forward onto Merlin's torso with exhaustion, her eyes still wide at the power she'd felt. She shook her head and pushed herself to a sitting position, pretending to be fine.

"Medea?" Gedran asked, sincerely worried.

She dusted herself off and stood before meeting Gedran's eyes.

"It is done."


	2. Being Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur get a nasty surprise when they wake.

Merlin awoke first, but immediately knew something was wrong. Even if he somehow ignored the fact that his body felt more clunky than usual, there was something else – something _missing_. He closed his eyes again, searching for his magic, but he could find nothing. It was an awful feeling. His magic had been a constant presence since he was a child, and being without it now, well, Merlin felt empty.

"Gods, Merlin. I feel terrible," Arthur suddenly said. "What did that druid _do_ to us? Wait...are you _mocking_ me?"

The warlock frowned. "I haven't said anything!" he protested, but instead of his normal tone, it was Arthur's voice he heard.

The prince hesitated, his tone cautious. " _Merlin_ , why does my voice sound like _yours_?"

Arthur glanced down to see a red scarf hanging around his neck and glared at it furiously. "Why would the druids dress me in your clothes? Is this some sort of a joke?"

Merlin attempted to sit up, but promptly fell backward with the weight of chainmail and armor.

"I wish," Merlin sighed. "I think you should take a closer look, _sire_."

Arthur caught on. "You _can't_ be serious," he complained.

He turned to face his own body, before stumbling to a standing position. He motioned to his manservant.

"Get _up_ , Merlin! You're making me look weak!"

Merlin couldn't help but snort at how funny his own voice sounded giving Arthur's commands.

"Yes, _sire,_ " he retorted.

"Is something about this _funny_ to you?"

And then he was looking into his own face: his own _upside down_ face, he noted.

Merlin finally managed to drum up the energy to stand, but not used to the weight, he stumbled once before managing to steady himself.

"How do you _wear_ this without falling over?" he complained.

Arthur rolled his eyes, not willing to designate that with a verbal response.

"This is horrible!" he complained. "I have to report to father about the druids. He'll never listen to me like _this_."

The prince turned and pointed to Merlin's now armored chest. " _You_ will have to do it."

" _Me_? Arthur, shouldn't we be figuring out how to reverse this?"

"Do _you_ want to tell my father that we've switched bodies?"

Merlin gulped. "No. But there's no way..."

Arthur's glare was piercing, and Merlin couldn't help but grin. "I'm sorry, but I just can't take you seriously when it's _my_ face glaring at me."

Arthur threw up his hands in defeat before sighing. "What do _you_ suggest?"

"Well, for one thing, you may have noticed that the druids stole our horses, _sire_."

"Yes, I know _that_. That's _hardly_ our biggest problem."

Arthur's face suddenly paled. "God. King Bayard will be arriving tonight. My father will expect me to be in the greeting party."

"We can't go back. Hmm, maybe if we go to Ealdor for now, stay with my mother."

"Father would start a war with Cenred if he believed I had disappeared in his kingdom, and he'd be furious with me for heading to your village, regardless of the reason."

"Well we could tell him we were attacked and kidnapped by the druids and took refuge in Ealdor when we escaped."

Arthur paused in thought. "That's actually not bad," he said with fake praise, "except that the druid camp was _no where near_ Ealdor!"

Merlin winced. He knew that strong sorcerers could easily transport themselves wherever they chose, but pointing that out now was definitely a terrible idea, given Arthur's current mood.

Arthur sighed at Merlin's silence and pinched his brow in agitation. "Let me do the talking, for God's sake. You are the worst liar ever."

"That's going to be difficult, with me in your body and..."

"Shut up. Just shut up."

Merlin raised gloved hands in defeat. "Sorry," he said, Arthur's voice sounding soft. This just irritated the prince more.

"Come on," Arthur ordered. "We've a long way to go if we're to be back at court in time for Bayard's arrival."

"Um..." Merlin began again.

"What is it _now_ , Merlin?"

"Just thought I'd mention that since you're, well, _me_ , and I'm a _servant_..."

Arthur's glare was enough to stop him mid-sentence.

"...shut up?" There was a pause, and Merlin looked at him with amusement. "I don't think I've ever looked that angry."

Arthur glared with golden eyes that Merlin prayed the prince did not notice.

"Shutting up now."

* * *

It was nearing dusk when they arrived at the gates of Camelot, and neither prince nor warlock was in a particularly good mood. For one, Merlin knew that when they arrived, _he_ was going to get chewed out _as Arthur_ and have to come up with some ridiculous excuse. Then there was the fact that Uther could easily see through poor excuses. Merlin shuddered.

"Don't tell me you're cold," Arthur retorted with Merlin's sharp tone. "Quit _shaking._ "

Merlin flinched. "Would you _stop_ that?"

"What?"

"Giving orders in _my_ voice!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Get used to it, _Merlin_ , you're going to hear it until we reverse this...inconvenience."

The two men walked bedraggled through the gates and there were shouts and cries of guards and knights, as they spotted the men.

"Sire," Sir Leon said, dismounting. "We were starting to worry. What has happened?"

Merlin quickly snapped out of his daze as he realized Sir Leon was expecting an answer.

_Right. I'm Arthur now. Gods, this is going to be a hateful week._

"Druids," he said. "There were too many. They overpowered us."

He was acutely aware of Arthur's sudden death glare.

Sir Leon turned away for a moment to speak to a messenger from the castle and Arthur took the opportunity to lean in and whisper.

"Stand up straight, would you? Don't hunch. You're _me_ now; you have to look commanding. And don't speak so softly."

"Sorry sire, but I hardly think they noticed, given how we look like we just escaped certain death."

"You _would_ think that, Merlin."

Sir Leon faced them again. "Sire," he said, "Bayard arrives shortly."

Arthur and Merlin turned equal shades of pale, before Arthur recovered and nudged the warlock. He motioned with his head toward Leon.

"Oh, right," Merlin muttered. "I…tell my father I'll join him at the castle steps as soon as I…get changed."

Leon nodded. "Sire," he acknowledged, before giving Merlin an odd look and walking away.

Arthur brought his hand to his forehead in exasperation. "Great. Leon suspects something."

He glanced at Merlin with genuine worry as both began to walk toward the castle. "This is an impossible task for both of us," he admitted. "How are we meant to be convincing?"

Merlin grinned wryly. "Well, sire, walking directly to my side isn't exactly helping. You _are_ a servant now."

Arthur met Merlin's gaze with irritation. "It never stopped you," he said, and resumed walking just as he had before.

* * *

Arthur leaned against the wall with smug satisfaction as he watched Merlin attempt to get dressed in ceremonial clothes.  
  
"How do you even get this over your head?" Merlin complained. _"_ And where does this clip in? Why is the button _there_?"

The prince couldn't help but to burst into laughter.  
  
"Need some help, _Merlin_?" Arthur asked.

Merlin frowned. "No. I dressed you enough times. I can do it myself."

"If you say so," Arthur mocked, folding his arms.

"Oh damn it all to hell, anyway," Merlin finally said, exasperated. "You're right. I could use some help."

Arthur couldn't help the cheeky grin that adorned his face. Merlin's body remembered its little quirks and Arthur had seen this look on Merlin's face many times when mocking the prince.

"It's a little different when everything is clipped or buttoned in awkward places you can't reach," Arthur said, taking pity. "Here, let me do it. If we wait for you, Bayard will be settled in and at the feast."

The prince buttoned the back of the shirt and attached the ceremonial cloak. "There," he said.

Merlin sighed. "Are you sure that we should go like this? Couldn't we just pretend you're ill?"

Arthur gave him a look. "It's disrespectful to be absent for the arrival of a king. Unless I'm half dead, father expects me to attend."

"We could get Gaius to confirm it," Merlin said.

"No. We're not telling Gaius. You're going down to greet Bayard and I'm going with you."

Merlin sighed.

"Well I'm impressed at least," he quipped. "I think this counts as the first time you've ever dressed _yourself_."

Arthur whipped around, crown in his hands, ready to throw it.

"I don't think you want to do that," Merlin pointed out.

The prince hesitated, not wanting to damage his crown. But his inability to get his anger out had an undesired side effect.

"I feel strange," he said.

Merlin looked at the prince...and gulped. Arthur's eyes had turned a bright shade of gold. It was quickly becoming evident that he couldn't keep provoking Arthur, unless he wanted his magic revealed.

"Of course you do," he said. "You're in _my_ body, and you don't know how it reacts. Just take a deep breath."

Arthur did as asked and Merlin sighed with relief as the golden colour faded.

"Shall we?" he asked.

Arthur nodded before adjusting the ceremonial sword, and placing the crown on Merlin's head.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered.

* * *

"Bayard. It is good to see you again."

"And you, Uther," Bayard greeted, grasping Uther's forearm firmly and shaking, "and of course, Arthur."

"Come inside," Uther invited. "Arthur's servant will attend to your belongings."

He motioned to Arthur, unaware of his son's predicament. Arthur frowned. He had been standing silently, hoping not to be noticed, but Uther had other plans. He hesitated, wondering if he could get out of it somehow. Merlin looked at the prince with worry. He silently hoped that Arthur would choose the sensible response.

"There is no way that I'm lugging all that," Arthur whispered furiously to Merlin. "Get another servant to do it."

" _Now, boy,_ " Uther commanded.

Arthur flinched. He swallowed back his irritation that his father couldn't even remember Merlin's name (and didn't care to), and stormed off toward Bayard's belongings in a huff.

Merlin sighed and rolled his eyes. So much for not making Uther suspicious.

"Arthur," Uther boomed. "Your servant's behavior is getting more brazen with each day. Either you remedy it or I will be forced to throw him in the dungeons for insolence."

Merlin struggled to keep a neutral expression. "Yes, sire. By your leave, I will deal with it immediately," he managed.

"That would be a wise choice," Uther confirmed.

The warlock took that as his cue to go.

* * *

One step. Another step. Three more. Each was painful, hateful, as Arthur attempted to drag four bags up five flights of stairs. Was this a normal day for Merlin? Another step. Sweat rolled down his forehead. _Curse Merlin_ for having such a weak body! He wished there was some way to make this lighter. Two more! Nearly there. Then _another_ two flights to go. He took another step, finally reaching the top of the third flight, and allowed the bags to fall abruptly to the floor as he stopped to catch his breath. He glanced up the next staircase and nearly collapsed thinking about dragging the bags up there.

_Maybe if I close my eyes and hope._

Arthur knew nothing would actually come of his wish, but took a minute to rest anyway. As he did he noticed a subtle tingling in his eyes. He moved to rub them to rid them of the feeling but it had disappeared as fast as it had come. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the bags and attempted to conquer the first step of staircase four. He suddenly realized the bags were much lighter. Perhaps it had been the moment of rest, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Arthur plodded onward.

Merlin found Arthur just over halfway to Bayard's chambers, glaring at the last staircase with contempt. His expression changed to worry at the image of his angry self.

"Arthur, are you insane?" Merlin finally blurted. "Your father now thinks _I'm_ out of line because of _your_ fiery temper!"

"Did you _hear_ how he spoke to me?" Arthur exclaimed. "Like I was a _nobody_! He doesn't even know your _name_ , Merlin!"

Merlin chuckled. "Is _that_ what bothered you?"

Arthur turned away and folded his arms.

Merlin placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "I know you don't like being ordered around, but while you're _me,_ you have to expect it."

Arthur shook his head, but knew Merlin was right. The two picked up the bags and began to carry them to Bayard's chambers in silence. Merlin wondered about the lightness of the bags.

 _Had Arthur used magic_?

Perhaps, unknowingly, he had, but there was nothing Merlin could do to restore them to their proper weight. He sighed. Luckily, only Bayard's servants would notice the difference.

Once Bayard's items were all placed in the appropriate chambers, Merlin found himself in the middle of an awkward silence. Arthur was leaning against the wall to catch his breath and Merlin wasn't sure exactly what to say.

"While you're me, you can't help with… _this_ sort of thing," Arthur finally said. "My father will see right through it."

Merlin smirked. "I know, but you were struggling _so much_."

Arthur glared, and Merlin watched as the prince suddenly rubbed at his eyes. Dread sat heavily in the warlock's gut. This was getting out of hand. Over the years, Merlin had learned not to let his emotions dictate how his magic behaved, but Arthur had none of that control, and in Camelot, that was dangerous. Problem was, how could Merlin get Arthur to control his temper without telling him the truth?

"Merlin, do you have a problem with your eyes?" Arthur asked crossly.

"No," Merlin said. "But that's not our biggest worry at the moment. Your father sent me to set you straight. I assume that means if I don't do something to show I've punished you, he'll put you in the dungeons."

Arthur folded his arms defiantly. "I'm not going in the dungeons, Merlin, so you had better think of something."

"Well, what am I going to…" he paused, a wry smile coming over his face. "I know."

Arthur raised an eyebrow with skepticism. Merlin grinned, and with that, he led Arthur to the stocks.

* * *

 

Arthur had to bite back the urge to yell at the peasants throwing food at him. One word out of character and they'd know something was off. But what was it that Merlin usually did when having rotten fruit thrown at him? There's no way he spent his time grinning.

Splat! Another tomato hit him in the eye. Arthur gritted his teeth and glared.

_To hell with acting like Merlin! This is disgraceful! Humiliating!_

He struggled angrily and the guard nearby suddenly laughed.

"You're normally one of the more pleasant ones in the stocks. Tell me, what's _his royal highness_ done this time?" the guard asked.

Arthur bit back his instinctive comment, curious that Merlin appeared to have a friendship with the guard from the _stocks_. Though he should hardly be surprised, with the amount of time the idiot spent there.

"What makes you think it's something Arthur did?" he asked cautiously.

The guard roared with laughter.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Why is that funny?"

"I don't know what's gotten into you today, Merlin," the guard said, 'but I reckon you've done enough time."

He began to unlock the stocks. Arthur immediately began brushing the stray fruit from his face and rubbing his sore wrists. God, the stocks were a pain in the ass. He glanced at the guard warily.

"Thanks," he said.

The guard smiled. "Thanks for the entertainment."

* * *

Arthur may have spent part of the evening having rotten fruit thrown at him, but Merlin had endured a torturous evening with Uther, Bayard and most of the royal court – listening to political talk and pretending to the prince. He'd tried to look interested but had zoned out for most of the night. Then the two kings had switched their discussion to magic. Merlin's ears had perked up but he'd pretended to have no more interest in the topic than the others. Uther appeared to be trying to convince Bayard to change his policy on magic.

 _Good luck with that_ he thought dryly.

"Arthur," Uther called.

Merlin was shaken out of his daze. "Sorry," he covered, "I was thinking."

Bayard laughed. "You cannot blame him, Uther. It has been a long day. These things will be discussed soon enough."

Uther said nothing, instead analyzing Merlin.

"I will take my leave for tonight, Uther. This has been a most gracious welcome."

"For that I am glad. It is good to see you Bayard. We will talk further tomorrow."

With that, Bayard left and Merlin was left with Uther. He fought back the bile rising in his throat. Uther wasn't stupid. He'd noticed something and Merlin was going to hear about it.

"You've been distracted tonight, Arthur," Uther stated.

_There it is._

Merlin looked up with the best apologetic expression he could muster. "Sorry, sire. There's just a lot on my mind."

"I have yet to hear your report," Uther stated.

"Right, the report," Merlin said awkwardly.

Uther raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Merlin took a breath before putting on his best 'Arthur' facade.

"We came upon a druid camp just 5 leagues to the west. They overpowered us and stole our horses."

"I am surprised they left you alive," Uther said.

Merlin frowned. "They mentioned putting a 'bad-luck' curse on Camelot, to distract us."

"From what?"

"A siege," Merlin admitted.

Uther's face turned to rage. "Then we must find them and execute them," he said coldly. "Was there any sign of their whereabouts when you awoke?"

Merlin shook his head. "No, sire. They had wiped the tracks clean."

The king frowned. "Will the poison that is magic _never_ leave my kingdom!"

The warlock turned prince had to hold back a snort at that. He quickly realized that something was expected of him.

_What would Arthur say?_

"I will leave immediately to begin the search," he said, hoping that was the correct response.

Uther paused. "No," he ordered. "It will be near impossible to track at night. Leave tomorrow at noon."

"Noon?" Merlin asked with surprise, "They'll be far from here by then."

"They are sorcerers who mean to do us harm. Let them believe we are not pursuing them. They will make their way back toward Camelot."

Merlin nodded. _Good. An opportunity for Arthur and I to sort this out._

"Take the knights as well, and your servant. If nothing else, he seems to bring good luck."

Merlin nearly died from fright at that statement but forced himself to breathe. _He doesn't know. Calm down_.

King Uther stood turned away, motioning for Merlin to follow. Merlin complied.

"What is it, sire?" he asked, suddenly realized that was far too formal for the situation.

Uther glanced at him curiously before continuing. "I will require your presence in the morning. We will be discussing the treaty and making some…additions."

"Additions?" Merlin asked nervously.

Uther glanced around before answering. "King Bayard has agreed to modify his policy on magic."

 _Great._ Merlin thought with a frown. _I missed that part of the conversation._

Uther frowned back. "I can see you are displeased. One day you will understand that magic is evil, Arthur, as well as the people who use it. We must contain it to keep Camelot safe."

Merlin was quickly jolted out of his thoughts. That sounded a lot like this was a regular occurrence. Was Arthur warming up to magic? Merlin was too gob smacked to say anything immediate and so decided to nod instead.

"In the morning then," he managed.

Uther nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze, before walking toward his chambers.

Merlin let out a deep breath.

He found Arthur sitting on his - well - _Arthur's_ bed, with arms crossed.

"That," Arthur said, "was humiliating."

Merlin sighed before removing Arthur's circlet crown and laying it on a nearby bureau. He could hardly tell Arthur about his reaction to the recent anti-magic conversation with Uther. Merlin glanced at the prince.

"Better get used to it," he said half-heartedly. " _You_ assigned me to muck out the stables tonight as punishment for turning your best tunics white.'

"You deserved it for that," Arthur replied.

There was no response. Arthur knew something was up. Their banter had heavy tone that was not normally present, and Merlin looked exhausted.

"Fine," Merlin finally conceded, "but the king _knows_ about that one, which means you can't get out of it."

Arthur blinked, bringing himself back to the conversation. "I'm sure you can come up with _something_ to tell my father," he said.

But Merlin had reached his limit. "Do you _realize_ how difficult it is for me to pretend to be _you?_ Your father has been giving me suspicious looks the entire evening!"

Merlin sighed. "Besides, _you_ made a fuss about those shirts for an entire afternoon. It's not something he's just going to forget."

"I am _not_ mucking out the stables,"

"I suppose you'd rather be in the dungeons then."

" _Merlin_ …"

"Or I have an idea…why not just get me executed?"

" _Merlin!_ "

Merlin stopped abruptly, glancing at his own furious expression in the mirror.

"I _get_ it," Arthur said. "Can you _shut up_ now?"

The frustrated warlock frowned. "I'm sorry…it's just…"

"I know. This is possibly the most irritating thing that has ever happened."

Merlin allowed himself to fall back on the bed a moment before sitting up.

"Your father has ordered us to search for the druids tomorrow at noon."

"Noon?" Arthur asked incredulously. "Why noon?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Because apparently he wants your input on the anti-magic changes he's making to the treaty with Mercia tomorrow morning."

"And you _agreed_?" Arthur asked with horror. "You're a bigger idiot than I give you credit for."

"Thanks sire," Merlin muttered.

"Merlin, _don't -_ you can't - if you _mess this up_ …"

"Tell me what I was _meant_ to say to him, Arthur? He didn't give me a choice."

Arthur raised a palm to his forehead. "We _should_ be looking for the druids _now_."

"And what good would that do? It's night. They didn't leave any tracks. Finding them is going to be impossible enough _with_ light. Oh, and he told us to bring the knights."

The prince's eyes widened. " _Just great,_ " he muttered. "Now what are we meant to do?"

" _You're_ meant to be mucking out the stables," Merlin reminded.

Arthur stood up with resignation. "I am going to regret this," he muttered, before leaving the room.

Merlin sat and stared at the fire, wondering just how he could live with himself if he was forced to condemn all the magic users in Mercia to persecution. The answer was simple: he couldn't.

* * *

Several sharp curses wafted into the darkness around the stables as Arthur attempted the task to which Merlin was normally assigned. Many servants had heard the angry outbursts and had given the building a wide berth.

 _This is infuriating!_ Arthur thought.

Not only did it smell, not only was it _difficult work_ (which he'd _never_ admit to Merlin), but Arthur should never have had to do it. _Ever_. And truthfully he hadn't a clue _how_ until he'd asked a stable boy, who had then proceeded to look at him as though he had seven heads. This was the worst day _ever_.

He had taken to blinking multiple times a minute, trying to calm the tingling that had come back, but with each second, he felt it get worse. Unable to wipe his eyes again, given the nature of the work, he leaned back against the wall, trying to calm himself with deep breaths. 

 _Ugh_ , he thought.  _Merlin, we are going to have Gaius check your eyesight when this is over._

Though if Arthur was being honest, it wasn't just Merlin's eyes. He had nearly finished mucking the stables and he was exhausted, but somehow Arthur still felt as though he had _tons_ of energy. And not just that, but tons of energy that had reacted to his anger, like a wave trying to crash through a castle wall. Arthur frowned. It shouldn't be possible that Merlin was fitter than Arthur, and truthfully that didn't seem the case. Arthur didn't think that mucking out the stables would wear out his _normal_ body, if he ever lowered himself to do it. And he certainly didn't feel stronger in this body. But he could tell now that he was brimming with _something_ , and he'd felt this way ever since waking up as Merlin.

Arthur shook his head. All he wanted right now was to sit down somewhere and _think:_ come to terms with the fact that he had to be _stuck_ in Merlin's body for God knows how long, but this feeling was overwhelming his senses, making him restless and anxious. He continued to lean against the stable wall, his eyes closed, and his breathing deep, trying to gain control over it. He wasn't sure how long he was there, but after awhile, the wave finally seemed to calm. He glanced around at the unfinished job, and decided it would simply have to wait. He was completely exhausted, and dealing with whatever this was had completely wiped his energy.

It took him what seemed like forever to make his way to his chambers, and headed straight for the bed upon entering, not sparing Merlin a second glance.

"Arthur!" Merlin exclaimed, jolting him out of his daze. "You can't sleep there. You're _me_ now, and not to mention you need a bath."

Arthur groaned. "I don't know if I can stay awake long enough for that," he said.

Merlin grinned with glee. "Are you saying that you've had a _long day_ , Arthur? That you've had a _lot of work to do_?"

"Shut up, Merlin, and draw me a bath."

Merlin knew better than to argue when Arthur was this cranky. He turned toward the fireplace, picking up the bucket he had placed there earlier and putting it over the already crackling fire. He tossed a light log on the fire to keep it going while the water heated, and sat back to wait.

"I'll be asleep by the time you get that bath ready, Merlin," Arthur complained.

"Water takes time to heat, Arthur," he quipped.

Neither of them had much patience for banter that night. Arthur had silently used the bath and dressed in some of his nightclothes while Merlin disposed of the water.

"I suppose you'll have to stay in the antechamber tonight," Merlin said while pulling a nightshirt over his head. "You can't put those clothes on again. They're filthy."

Arthur couldn't help but agree with that. "Toss them in the corner, and we'll send them down with my laundry tomorrow," he said.

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"What? I'm not exactly going to wash them myself, am I?"

There was a tired grin. "Prat," he said.

"You're lucky that I'm too tired to throttle you," Arthur said with a yawn.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "You mean to throttle yourself, sire."

Arthur glared, heading with finality toward the antechamber and closing the door. Merlin sighed and settled onto Arthur's plush mattress. Tiredness overcame him quickly, and he began to let himself fall into sleep, hoping that tomorrow things would go back to normal.

* * *

Medea sat near the fire, replaying the thoughts she had seen in her head when she had forced Merlin's essence out of his body. It had been the hardest thing she'd ever done.

"She will not be pleased," Medea heard.

"She'll be angrier that you tried to kill the prince and his servant."

"I can hear your whispers! Who is this witch you speak of?" Medea asked. "You've told me our orders but you've not yet told me what our actions will achieve, or who will gain from them."

She frowned to indicate her displeasure.

A sudden slap caught her off guard and she held a hand to her face with anger as she faced down Pridwen, throwing him into a tree.

"Enough!" Gedran shouted. "Do not claim to be affronted, witch. You appeared to us in the forest one night, claiming to be of another druid clan. You have helped us, but you also hide your intentions."

"Hmph," Medea muttered. "You told me you needed to distract the king and his court. I have. But when you insisted we harm the prince and his servant, I could not allow that. You are both druids. You must know of the prophecy."

"We left the druids when I was very young," Lynne said. "We cannot identify Emrys, or the Once and Future king."

Medea paused to take that in.

"The Once and Future King is Arthur Pendragon," she explained. "He cannot be allowed to die. It will upset the balance."

"Madness!" Gedran protested. "The son of the tyrant Uther Pendragon will never bring magic back to the land!"

"Medea is telling the truth," a new voice responded.

Golden hair shone in the firelight as Morgause stepped into the clearing.

"Arthur is indeed the Once and Future King, but whether he will free magic remains to be seen. Until Emrys appears, that is merely a tale."

She turned on Gedran.

"Was I not clear that the prince must be left alive?"

Gedran gulped. "Please, you must understand…"

"I understand only that your need for revenge clouded your judgment."

Her cool words frightened the others.

"Yes, my liege, but there's something…I've discovered…"

Morgause shushed him. "I'm not interested in what you've conjured as an excuse, Gedran."

She paused. "But you have been competent and loyal to me in the past. It is not often that I grant a second chance to those who have failed me, so _do not waste it_."

"Milady," he acknowledged with a nod.

Morgause turned her attention to the other side of the fire.

"You must be Medea," Morgause said, analyzing the druid. "I have heard stories about you."

Medea's eyes widened, but she said nothing.

"I am impressed. It was clever of you to hex Camelot with bad luck. Your knowledge of the prophecy indicates you are well learned. Where did you study?"

"I picked it up in my travels," she lied.

Morgause raised an eyebrow with suspicion. "Very well. I have long known of the Once and Future King, and I have tried to…push the prophecy forward. But Arthur is weak. The son cannot see reason when the father is a tyrant. We must take Camelot by force."

"Then why keep him alive?"

"One does not tamper with fate," Morgause warned. "Arthur can be kept in the dungeons until he sees reason."

"And what will that achieve?" Medea questioned fearlessly. "Arthur will fear magic even more! You damn your own kind!"

"I do not need to explain my reasons to you," Morgause said, her eyes narrowing. "You remind me of someone - defiant and strong willed. Why have you joined Gedran and the others?"

Medea folded her arms. "My reasons are my own."

"I will not ask for those. No doubt you will be infuriatingly stubborn about revealing them."

Morgause walked over to Medea and placed a finger under her chin, raising Medea's gaze to meet her own. She smiled menacingly.

"You have my favor now, Medea, but be aware…if you interfere with my plans, you will find yourself outmatched."

She turned to leave, but paused near Gedran. " _Watch her,_ " she whispered before disappearing into the forest.

* * *

In Camelot, the city lay silent. The castle was quiet, save for the occasional noise from the changing of guards. Merlin had fallen into a deep slumber soon after laying in bed. Arthur was envious. He had been tossing and turning all night. The bed in the antechamber wasn't nearly as comfortable, but somehow he knew that wasn't the reason for his unrest. There was a presence somehow and it was making him uncomfortable.

_Merlin_

Arthur sat up reflexively and unsheathed his sword. Despite how strange it must've looked, Arthur was focused on the voice.

_Merlin_

He walked around the room, his back to the wall. "Show yourself," he commanded.

There was no response. Arthur analyzed the room, checking the possible areas for an intruder.

"Arthur?" A sleepy Merlin asked, standing in the doorway. "What are you doing?"

Merlin yawned before taking a minute to actually look at Arthur. He couldn't help but grin at how silly his own body looked wielding a sword.

Arthur frowned and sheathed the sword. "What's so funny?"

"You. What's got you so frightened?"

"There was someone here."

"There's no one here, Arthur. Go back to sleep."

"But…" Arthur sighed. "I must be going mad."

"No disagreement there," Merlin agreed, heading back to Arthur's bedroom.

The prince gritted his teeth and grabbed a nearby object to throw. But he quickly paused, realizing it was _his_ head he'd be clobbering. He frowned before placing the object back and forcing himself into bed again. This was going to be a long night.


End file.
